You're wrong, you know
by jeviennis
Summary: Amy wants to know why the Doctor thinks so badly of himself. Set after Amy's Choice. Rated T for swearing at one point.


"You're wrong, you know."

The Doctor looked up and smiled sadly at the fiery redhead who stood in front of him, hands on her hips. Her stance faltered as she took in the emotions splayed across his face: sadness, pain, loneliness, guilt, tiredness. The man was like an open book, yet Amy could never read him.

"And what might you be talking about, Miss Pond?" he asked quietly.

"What you said- what he said, what the Dream Lord said, which was you or... I haven't got it straight yet. But what he said to you, it was wrong."

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Amy silenced him with a finger.

"How can you believe any of that? The only thing you do is make peoples lives better."

The Time Lord shook his head and stared at the floor.

"No, Amy, no I don't. If you could see the things that I've done, the people I've hurt, you'd have a whole new perspective."

He clenched his fists and clamped his eyes shut, trying to shut her out, trying to stop her from seeing anymore. Amy stood with one hand over her mouth, a tear on her cheek. This wasn't like her Doctor. As if on cue, he spoke again, quieter and calmer than before.

"I'm not your raggedy Doctor, Amelia."

This hurt her more than anything. But as more tears fell, she brushed them away impatiently.

"What, so my Doctor never existed? I was just a stupid little girl with a stupid idea of her imaginary friend? You _were_ my childhood, Doctor, so don't you dare take that away from me, because you were all I had back then!"

The Doctor just sat, looking at the floor, completely unresponsive to Amy's scream of fury.

"For god's sake, listen to me! Stop this! You change more than the bloody weather - you act all friendly and big-hearted, but the minute anyone tries to help you - LISTEN TO ME! YOU JUST COMPLETELY FUCKING SHUT DOWN!"

By this point, Amy's frustration had rendered her speechless and as she stared at the motionless body of her oldest friend, she felt the lump in her throat threaten to suffocate her, so she ran before the Doctor could see the tears that lined her eyes.

She stopped running when she could no longer hear the hum of the main console, and she threw herself into the nearest room, slamming the door and sinking to the ground, her head in her hands. She cried for the imaginary days of her childhood with her imaginary friend, cried because she couldn't help him, because he wouldn't let her, and she cried because she couldn't understand how anyone could hate themselves so much, even after 907 years.

When her sobs finally subsided, Amy looked up at the room that she was sitting on the floor of. It was pretty, a girls bedroom, with an air of freshness and beauty that even the dust sprinkled over the shelves and the bed sheets didn't detract from. She assumed it was the room of one of the people the Doctor had travelled with before her; she wasn't stupid, she didn't expect him to have been alone until he met her. But she couldn't see any pictures of him in the frames that lay scattered across the desk by the wall, as if they'd been hit by a hurricane. Amy glanced around. The rest of the room was untouched, tidy. For now. _An oncoming storm_, Amy thought to herself. She turned her attention back to the photographs. They all contained the image of a blonde girl, Amy's age, minus a couple of years, and Amy couldn't help notice how beautiful she was. Radiant. Happy. Beaming in all of the photos. There was one with her and a black lad, pulling faces at the camera; one with her and an older blonde woman, presumably her mother, wearing matching sparkly jumpers in front of a Christmas tree; one of her and a friend pouting, dolled up for a night out. Amy bent down and picked up a frameless photo off of the floor and smiled at it. The pretty blonde girl was holding hands with a tall, handsome man, gazing up at him and he grinned back at her. Before she could set it down, a pair of hands gently prised her fingers off of it. The Doctor folded it and put it in his pocket, before turning to walk away, but Amy grabbed his arm.

"Whose room is this?"

The Doctor's voice came back hollow, barely a whisper.

"Rose's."

The word shattered Amy's heart, and suddenly she knew.

"The tall man in the photo, it's you."

He nodded slowly, and turned to face her, his warm brown eyes ghosting over the room, a thousand different shades of pain.

"Yeah."

Amy's next thought was supposed to come out as a question, but instead it came out as though it were solid fact, merely a statement, assuming the obvious.

"You loved her."

He nodded again.

"Who was she?"

The Doctor tightened his jaw, but Amy hold of his hand and squeezed gently. He was safe with her, he could tell her anything. Everything was safe with Amy Pond. He slumped down against the door frame, crossing his legs and shutting his eyes for just a moment, before he stared into Amy's.

"Her name was Rose Tyler..."

As the Doctor recounted his story to her, Amy never once let go of his hand, massaging his palm with her thumb, urging him on whenever he stopped. When he spoke of Canary Wharf, his features clouded over with such anguish, and Amy understood why he'd been so angry the day he'd seen the Daleks with Winston Churchill. They would always survive, while he lost everything.

"It was my fault."

Amy had been so lost in thought that she didn't realise he had finished speaking.

"Doctor..."

"It is. When she was trapped that day, I didn't ever think I'd get over it. Do you know what that's like? Watching that happen to someone you- you don't. But when she came back, it all felt right again."

His mouth quirked up into a smile, a ghost from the past, and his eyes swam with unshed tears. He swallowed and squeezed Amy's hand back, regaining control.

"She told me she loved me. I couldn't say it back."

Amy stroked his arm, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

"Why not?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, Amy, if I'd admitted it, I could never have let her go again. And being with me forever, that would not have been good for her, as much as she may have wanted it. It would have been selfish of me to deny her a good life, a good human life: a family, a man who could love her without fear, stability. All the things Rose Tyler wanted in life without even realising it."

"And the others?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and Amy giggled at his half smile and attempt at a laugh.

"You're a smart one, Pond."

The laugh died in his throat.

"I hurt them all. Martha, Donna, Astrid - all of them. They get hurt, or they lose someone or something. Or they die."

His eyes closed again on the last word, and Amy reached up and dragged his face around until he was looking straight at her.

"You listen to me, raggedy man! Firstly, you are most definitely my Doctor, so don't you ever try and take that from me. Secondly, you can't blame yourself for what happens."

The Doctor pulled his hand out of her grip.

"Amy-"

"-No! You might think that you hurt them or that you're a bad person, or that somehow, you deserve all this heartache, but you're wrong. The Dream Lord is wrong. You give people a life that others can only imagine, and for that, you are one of the greatest people I have ever met."

The Doctor had managed to smile weakly by now, shyly meeting her eyes as she pressed on.

"Keeping all of this is not good for you, even if you have got two hearts. Let it go, please."

He wiped his cheeks, surprised at how damp they'd become.

"Promise me you'll let it go?"

The Doctor got to his feet, pulling Amy up with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and put his head on her shoulder, pouring everything he didn't say into the hug.

"Oh, Pond," he mumbled, "I wish I could."

She pulled away and looked concerned, but her pale features relaxed when she saw him chuckle lightly. She shook her head and reached up to kiss his cheek, then began to leave the room. She stopped mid-turn and looked at him again.

"You _are_ wrong, you know."

And with that, she stepped silently out of view, leaving the Doctor feeling that a little bit of burden had been lifted, and maybe, next time the Dream Lord spoke to him, he wouldn't have quite so much effect.

Maybe he was wrong, after all.


End file.
